If you go down to the woods today...
by ThePet
Summary: COMPLETE Dumbledore finally loses his patience with Snape and McGonagall's constant bickering. So he sends them on a special team-building task...will the pair, with help from Harry and Draco, survive Dumbledore's test? And each other?
1. Death where is thy sting?

Chapter One  
  
Death, where is thy sting? Grimmest of prospects, most dreadful of days. How could it be any worse? If only there was some alternative; if only I could refuse Could there be a less auspicious beginning? at least it will be over with. If I survive. If I want to survive  
  
Double potions, first lesson back after the Easter holidays.  
  
With those blasted Gryffindors.  
  
It was a well-tested and long-favoured technique: glide along the corridor as silently as a stalking panther, slither up to the door as a snake in the grass…and then throw it open as violently as possible, scaring the dunderheaded pupils out of their minimal wits.  
  
Snape amused himself by keeping a tally of the number who actually squealed as he stormed into the classroom. That morning, five of them in total made some sort of terrified squeak, and Neville Longbottom, bane of any teacher's existence, looked gratifyingly nauseous with fear.  
  
"Put that thing away, Miss Granger." Without even looking at Hermione, probably the most capable student of her year – perhaps any year – Snape reached his desk and dropped into his chair, lacing his hands before him on the desk in a languid manner which somehow managed also to be menacing. Hermione, with a small frown, put away her wand as instructed.  
  
"I assume that you are all as delighted as I am to return to this class after the holidays." There were a few, very quiet, derisive snorts from the assembled pupils. " I further assume that everyone has completed the required holiday reading for this term." Many unhappy looks were exchanged. In fact, Snape had set so much reading that it was unlikely even Merlin himself could have managed it all without suffering eyestrain and psychological burnout. Snape was aware of this; it also amused him, in a detached sort of way. But a hand was waving in the air. Longbottom's.  
  
"P-p-please, professor, I c-couldn't…"  
  
"Detention, Longbottom, during which you may explain why not. And ten points from Gryffindor for your laziness." Neville hid his face in his hands, unable to meet Snape's cold glare. Another pupil did meet it, however, and with matching dislike – a boy with black hair and green eyes behind round spectacles; a boy with a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. Harry Potter found the judgement unfair and, unlike poor frightened Neville Longbottom, was not afraid to demonstrate it.  
  
"Don't glare at me like that, Potter." Snape murmured lazily. "That'll be another ten points off for your insolence. And now for today's lesson…" Not hearing Ron Weasley's mutter of "git", Snape rose to his feet and pointed at the blackboard with his wand. Two words appeared on it:  
  
Invisibility Potion  
  
Followed by a long and complicated set of instructions and ingredients.  
  
"We will be learning today about Invisibility Potions…not that some of us need them." He added with another sharp glance at Harry. "At least, I will be teaching…whether you lot will actually learn anything from it remains to be seen. Now! Pair off, collect your ingredients…" As the class prepared to make their first potions of the new term, Snape wandered among them, hissing instructions and making disparaging remarks – except, of course, to his own Slytherins, for whom he reserved an occasional sharp word of praise.  
  
"Good consistency, Malfoy."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Simpered the unspeakable Draco Malfoy, while his enormous henchmen Crabbe and Goyle looked on admiringly. Snape offered a grimace-like facial twitch in response, approximating a smile. Malfoy smiled sweetly back. Ron mimed being sick behind the professor's back, causing Neville to giggle…but a filthy look from Snape made him turn hurriedly back to his near-completed potion. Unfortunately, however, he had attracted attention to himself…and Snape glided over to loom behind the boy as he worked. Neville gulped; his hands shook as he attempted to add the final ingredients. He was so close to getting this almost right…for once, his potion would be a success…  
  
It may well have been , had Snape not been standing over him, doing his best to intimidate the wretched boy into failure. Neville stirred his potion unhappily now, sure that something somewhere must have gone wrong. Mercifully, Snape turned abruptly away, returning to his desk.  
  
"Everyone should have completed the first stage by now. On my word, you will add three drops - three, Longbottom! – of Essence of Henbane. You will then draw off a small amount of the liquid into a pipette, and administer it to your partner's hand." There was a pause, filled only by the sound of nervously shuffling feet. "Now." Said Snape, grimly. Right on cue, Hermione added her Henbane Essence; the potion turned silver, bubbling slightly, and she carefully withdrew a little, dripping onto Harry's hand. She beamed as a hole appeared.  
  
"Nice one!" Harry told her. Ron meanwhile was having less luck; Seamus Finnigan's left hand had turned completely blue. Snape peered at it with disgust, then, realising that something else was wrong, turned to Neville.  
  
"Longbottom, why haven't you yet caused havoc? Can it be that you failed to follow my instructions and add the henbane?"  
  
"Professor…I didn't add it because I don't think…"  
  
"Silence, boy! You will do as you are told, or you'll find yourself in detention for the rest of the term!" Neville picked up the tiny bottle of Essence of Henbane and unscrewed the top unhappily; meanwhile his partner Dean Thomas was looking mildly alarmed.  
  
"Get on with it." Snarled Snape. Neville, with a muttered prayer, tipped the bottle up, closing his eyes…  
  
Even Snape was startled by the ferocity of the resulting explosion. Bits of cauldron flew everywhere; pupils dove for cover under their desks while Snape shouted for order and fixed a menacing stare on Longbottom…or at least would have done, had he been there. The boy had completely disappeared. Snape was utterly astounded. Could it be possible that Longbottom had actually made the potion correctly? Except, of course, for adding ten times the required amount of henbane…  
  
"Longbottom! Where are you?" No answer save a slight sniffling in front of him, but Snape could practically see the empty air trembling in fear.  
  
"Come here." Said the potions master dangerously. The sound of footsteps could be heard in the cold dungeon classroom…but they were retreating towards the door.  
  
"Longbottom!" Snape cried. But the feet were running now, and as he watched, the door opened, and the invisible Neville Longbottom was legging it up the stairs.  
  
"Longbottom…" Snape shouted after him a third time, then with a hiss of exasperation bolted after the runaway student, wand at the ready, while the rest of the class sat amidst the debris, stunned.  
  
Snape ran swiftly along the corridor, chasing Longbottom, of whom a single foot could be seen protruding from his robes, which were soaked in the Invisibility Potion. Longbottom moved surprisingly quickly, making numerous dodges and turns, but Snape managed to keep within a few feet of him, ignoring the astonished stares of pupils and staff alike as he hurtled past them.  
  
"Move!" He growled at a Hufflepuff who stood gaping as the professor raced past. She jumped out of the way with a shriek as Snape brandished his wand.  
  
Longbottom could now be heard panting, and Snape was sure he must catch up soon…but then the boy reached the stairs, scurried up them, for once missing the dodgy step, and finally threw himself into the Gryffindor boys' bathroom. Snape, with an exasperated grunt, followed – and slammed the door behind him.  
  
A sea of lavatories, some baths and shower cubicles…but no sign of the escaped pupil. Snape peered carefully around the porcelain glinting room, his black eyes eventually falling upon a sink in the far corner…a sink with a mysterious foot poking out from under it.  
  
"Ha!" Triumphantly Snape advanced on the – presumably quivering, but how could one tell? – Longbottom, and pointed his wand at the air before him. Longbottom screamed. Annoyed, Snape muttered,  
  
"Stupid boy…I'm not trying to murder you…come here!" He grabbed out as the terrified boy tried to slip past him, and holding the struggling Neville with one hand, he quickly turned the cold tap of the nearest bath. Neville squirmed. When the bath was half full, Snape simply picked up the boy and flung him into it…  
  
Longbottom howled….  
  
Became visible as the potion washed off…  
  
And the bathroom door opened.  
  
"Professor Snape!" Cried Minerva McGonagall, in horrified disbelief. "What are you doing to Longbottom?"  
  
"I…"  
  
"How dare you abuse one of my students?"  
  
"Abuse him!" Roared Snape, his blood thoroughly up. "He's abusing me! The blasted boy…gets everything wrong…made me chase him through miles of corridor…"the run finally catching up with him, Snape was gasping for breath, paler than usual with vexation and oxygen debt.  
  
"Please, professor…"  
  
"Keep out of this, you!" Snape snarled at Neville. McGonagall brushed past him and helped the unfortunate boy out of the bath.  
  
"Go to the hospital wing." She instructed. "Madame Pomfrey will give you something to warm you up. Snape…" she glared at the potions master, "come with my to the headmaster's office."  
  
"How dare you address me as though I were a first-year…"  
  
"NOW!" Roared McGonagall, and Snape winced.  
  
"Fine." He hissed, rising. His robes were also dripping from Neville's frantic efforts to escape. Bits of the boy were still invisible. Thankful to be excused, Neville slipped away as the two teachers glowered at one another.  
  
"I have had quite enough of this appalling behaviour towards any pupils other than the Slytherins." McGonagall said as she led the way to Dumbledore's office. "Such things should not be tolerated in this school."  
  
"Really? And I suppose you will be recommending Dumbledore to fire me?"  
  
"It would make everyone's life much easier!" Snapped McGonagall.  
  
"Oh, indeed?" Sneering openly now, his voice rising above its usual low, sinister level. "I'm certain that's true." McGonagall's lips had by this time almost disappeared as she compressed them into an ever thinning line.  
  
"Ever since you came to this school you've caused nothing but trouble." She told Snape harshly.  
  
"That must be why Dumbledore sees fit to employ me."  
  
"He employs you because he pities you!" Passing students were beginning to stare at them now. In fact, a small crowd of interested Gryffindors and Slytherins were following them, unseen, as the pair stalked along the corridor.  
  
"Pities! Then what does he employ you for? Maybe he finds you attractive? Or perhaps he finds it useful to have a teacher who transfigures into a cat for no other reason than to impress dimwitted first years?" McGonagall froze in place, turning to face Snape, who also stopped, smirking. For the first time they observed their gathering audience, but both teachers were too incensed to do anything but glare at one another.  
  
"Oh? I wonder why you never became an Animagus, Snape? Is it because you were so useless at Transfiguration that Dumbledore had to give you special tuition just to get you through O.W.L.S?" Snape growled in his throat.  
  
"I see it all now," McGonagall continued, "Dumbledore's charity case!"  
  
"Better than being Dumbledore's pet pussy!" Snape cried in response. A small burst of applause came from the Slytherins in the intently-watching crowd.  
  
"How dare you…"  
  
"Here, kitty-kitty!"  
  
"I've never been so…"  
  
"Haven't you? You surprise me, Minerva!"  
  
"You are the most…"  
  
"Why thank you."  
  
"Rude, insufferable…"  
  
"How kind."  
  
"Greasy, ill-mannered, nasty piece of work I have ever encountered!" Cheers from the Gryffindors.  
  
"I am not greasy!" Snarled Snape, blatantly lying through his teeth. Groans from the Slytherins.  
  
"And what is more…" Fortunately for Snape – possibly – McGonagall's tirade was cut off by the approach of none other than Dumbledore himself, meandering cheerfully along the corridor towards them. The crowd opened to let him through.  
  
"What's this?" He smiled, eyes twinkling. "A little meeting?"  
  
"We were…" McGonagall began awkwardly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Professor McGonagall was taking me to task in front of the students, headmaster." Snape said quickly, flashing a triumphant look at McGonagall, who scowled. Dumbledore's simle faded. He looked worriedly from one to the other.  
  
"Really, Minerva, is this true?"  
  
"Well, yes, Albus, but…"  
  
"She was most rude." Put in Snape.  
  
"Professor Snape," growled McGonagall to Dumbledore, "has been ill- treating Longbottom yet again. I saw him with my own eyes trying to drown the boy in a bath…"  
  
"Drown!"  
  
"I was doing nothing of the kind!"  
  
"Yes you were! And what's more…what is it you've been doing in the Forbidden Forest, Snape? Madame Hooch and I saw him heading there yesterday at midnight." She added to the headmaster,  
  
"Oh, did you indeed?" Snape cried before Dumbledore could get a word in. "And what were you and she doing there, I might ask?"  
  
"We were discussing the Gryffindor Quidditch team if you must know." Replied McGonagall, primly. "Madame Hooch was showing me a new technique for handling one's broomstick."  
  
"Well you know what you can do with your broomstick!" The Slytherins cheered.  
  
"Severus!" Exclaimed Dumbledore, though he couldn't quite hide a smile.  
  
"Oh, go and wash your hair!" Whoops from the Gryffindors.  
  
"Minerva! Really, both of you! And as for you students…please carry on with your business, whatever that may be." The crowd dispersed slowly, some grumbling, some giggling. Dumbledore turned back to the teachers.  
  
"Now that we have some privacy…I would like it known that I am very displeased with both of you. This behaviour is hardly fitting for Hogwarts teachers. Squabbling in corridors…" he held up a hand for silence as Snape opened his mouth to object, "squabbling in corridors is childish behaviour even for first years, but for two adults, heads of houses at that, to be seen firing verbal arrows in front of your pupils…" Dumbledore shook his head sadly. Snape and McGonagall were looking vaguely ashamed of themselves, but they still glared at one another.  
  
"She started it." Muttered Snape.  
  
"I did not."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"Please!" Dumbledore cried. "Enough! You are both behaving like children. And if you insist on doing that, I will be forced to punish you like children. This has gone far beyond dignified rivalry – much too far. I expect you both to set better examples in future, and to ensure you do…" he paused, and a smile briefly came to his lips. "Ah, yes. I have the perfect solution. I would like to see both of you in my office first thing tomorrow morning." Snape and McGonagall, both scowling, avoided one another's gazes and without a word headed off back to their respective classrooms. Dumbledore remained for a moment standing still, smiling to himself.  
  
Tomorrow would prove very interesting indeed.  
  
  
  
A/N Please review ( Sorry it's a bit slow to start, I wanted to set the scene. Action starts from now! Poor Severus and Minerva (evil grin). By the way I won't inflict you with more chapters if it's too awful! Please don't flame me though, just ask me politely to go away… 


	2. If you go down to the woods today...

A/N Thanks to GodlessHarlot, Rabbit and Minerva McTabby (gotta love that name!) for their kind reviews!  
  
(plot suggestions happily accepted – I'll try to work them in!)  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or places referred to in this fic. Funny how I forgot to mention that the first time around ( But hey, I guess everyone knows that anyway!  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Severus Snape felt a little apprehensive as he snapped out the password ("Chocolate frog!") to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's rooms. In a cold sort of way he was unhappy at the headmaster's obvious disappointment in his behaviour. But that blasted woman…could she be more aggravating? So pious, so damned perfect, never a toe out of line – until now. Despite himself Snape smirked. It was almost worth it. But not quite.  
  
Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, but he rose politely as Snape entered and shooed the potions master into a comfortable chair.  
  
"Minerva hasn't arrived yet." Dumbledore explained, and Snape smiled to himself again – one nil to him!  
  
"I am sure she will join us shortly. While we wait…would you like some tea?"  
  
"No thank you."  
  
"Coffee?" Snape shook his head. This was something of a ritual between the headmaster and himself, had been since his first days of teaching at Hogwarts.  
  
"Hot chocolate?"  
  
"No…"  
  
"Cold drink? Light snack?" Dumbledore never tired of the game.  
  
"Thank you, I'd rather not."  
  
"Well then. To business."  
  
"What about McGonagall?"  
  
"The matter is hardly top secret." Dumbledore replied dryly. In the short space of time between yesterday's rows and the present, the entire school had heard, and thoroughly exaggerated, everything…some of the most bizarre and disturbing versions of events included McGonagall slapping Snape, turning him into a bat, and revealing she was his mother (popular among the Gryffindors), and Snape booting McGonagall, while in cat form, around the school, attacking her with her own broomstick, and (the most realistic of all) having been poisoning her for the last ten years. These last were favoured of course by the Slytherins. In fact Snape had received a congratulatory message from Lucius Malfoy by last owl the previous night ("That's right, Severus, don't let those Muggle-loving Gryffindors beat you down"). Now, however, Snape rather wished the whole affair had been brushed under the carpet. He had never seen Dumbledore quite so annoyed with him.  
  
"So what is it you…" before Snape could finish, a knock came at the door – McGonagall had arrived at last. She glared at Snape.  
  
"I see you're early, Severus. Never backward in coming forward, eh?" Snape scowled at her, trying to unravel the insult.  
  
"At least I had the courtesy to be punctual." He replied acidly.  
  
"That's quite enough." Interposed Dumbledore firmly. "Please be seated, Minerva. Thank you. Now…as you must understand, I cannot let this affair be simply ignored. This…rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin goes back many centuries, and I am not one to meddle with tradition, but you must admit, both of you, that there are limits. Competition can be most facilitating to the gathering of knowledge; however, I have always favoured co-operation, team spirit, mutual helping." Snape groaned inwardly. He hated it when Dumbledore preached. McGonagall didn't exactly look enthused, either.  
  
"It is for this reason," the headmaster went on, steepling his long fingers, "that I have decided the most appropriate reparation for your inappropriate behaviour is to encourage co-operation between Gryffindor and Slytherin."  
  
"No!" Snape almost leaped out of the chair as he realised in advance the headmaster's intention.  
  
"It's been tried before." Said McGonagall, in a strained voice. "On the most recent occasion, years ago now, the headmistress forced the heads of all four houses to engage in a teamwork task on a remote island in the Hebrides. They were never seen again."  
  
"Many such attempts have been reported over the years." Growled Snape. "They have invariably resulted in violence and bloodshed."  
  
"Nevertheless," Dumbledore replied sternly, "I expect better of both of you. We are living in difficult times. It is more important than ever that we all work together to vanquish our common enemy." Snape swallowed and looked away. McGonagall stared at the floor.  
  
"It won't happen again, Albus." She croaked after a moment. "Professor Snape and I will behave more appropriately in future. But please, don't send us on a teamwork task." Snape nodded vigorously in agreement Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"I had hoped for a little more enthusiasm…be that as it may, my mind is made up. But you will not be alone." There was a definite twinkle in his eyes now. "You may each select one student from your respective houses to accompany you on the task, in order to promote co-operation between pupils as well as teachers. You should select whichever students you believe to be most representative of your house, and who would most benefit from the experience." The choice, of course, was obvious – Dumbledore knew that, and Snape and McGonagall both recognised it. This was Dumbledore's cunning way of killing two birds with one stone. McGonagall heaved a deep sigh.  
  
"Very well." She said. "If you are resolute on this matter, Albus…"  
  
"I am." Replied Dumbledore, cheerfully. "Severus?"  
  
"As you wish." Snape said stiffly.  
  
"Excellent! Now I would ask you both, which students will you take? I must add that they are under no obligation to accompany you…although I'm sure you can find appropriate incentives." The teachers were hardly listening. Snape was staring at McGonagall, his lip caught between his teeth, as though daring her to speak the name. Meeting his eyes unflinchingly she rose to the challenge.  
  
"Harry Potter!" Oh, dear God.  
  
"And who will you take, Severus?" Smiled Dumbledore. Glaring at McGonagall, Snape announced,  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"Agreed. You should contact Harry and Draco and ask them to prepare to leave tomorrow morning. You have until then to assemble any equipment you may require."  
  
"But headmaster," put in Snape, "you haven't said where it is we are being sent."  
  
"Did I not?" Dumbledore sounded surprised. "How absent-minded of me. Not very far – not far at all, in fact. You will be spending a week in the Forbidden Forest."  
  
"WHAT!?" In perfect harmony.  
  
"Without wands." Finished Dumbledore, happily.  
  
"Without…"  
  
"But that's…"  
  
"Are you trying to kill us all?"  
  
"How can we possibly…"  
  
"You will find a way." The headmaster comforted. "Using teamwork."  
  
  
  
A/N So! The die is cast. Will the task be a success? Will Severus discover a new sense of justice and compassion? Or will Minerva embrace her inner Snape? Will Harry and Draco manage to be more adult than their elders? Find out in the next exciting instalment! (cheesy grin) ^_^  
  
Please R+R! 


	3. The team assembles...with reluctance

A/N Many, many thanks to all you wonderful people who've taken the time to review so far (  
  
Chapter Three  
  
"It isn't that I'm not pleased she thinks I'm good, it's just that I don't really fancy a week stuck in the forest with Snape and Malfoy!"  
  
"Harry, I don't blame you, but just think about it! Fifty house points! And a commemorative plaque!"  
  
"Yes, but…" With a sigh of resignation, Harry finally gave in to Hermione's enthusiasm. "I suppose I'll get through it somehow. I wish you and Ron were coming though."  
  
"I don't." Replied Ron. "No offence, mate, but a week with Slimy and Greasy? I'd rather eat a bludger."  
  
"Thanks, Ron."  
  
"If you ask me, it's an excellent opportunity." Hermione said primly. "I know Malfoy's a horror, but really, we are fifth years now after all, and in the circumstances…" she broke off. Both Harry and Ron were staring at her in amazement.  
  
"I just think co-operation is a good idea, that's all." She finished lamely, and bent her head over an enormous book entitled 'Medium Level Advanced Basic Arithmancy for the Extremely Dedicated or Very Bored'. Harry heaved another sigh, and turned his attention back to the rucksack he was packing.  
  
"I can't believe we're not allowed wands. A week with Malfoy and I won't even be able to curse him or anything."  
  
"I should think not!" That was Hermione, of course.  
  
"Thought you were studying." Ron told her. She scowled and returned to the tome.  
  
"Anyway, Harry, it is pretty impressive, you being picked for this ultra- special task and all. Funny how it's McGonagall and Snape running it though. You'd think Dumbledore would want to keep those two apart." Hermione looked up again.  
  
"You really haven't guessed what's going on?"  
  
"How'd you mean?"  
  
"Well, it's obvious! This whole teamwork thing, it isn't just about you and Malfoy, Harry. I think it's Dumbledore's way of trying to get Snape and professor McGonagall to work together," Ron gave a snort of laughter.  
  
"That's something I wouldn't mind seeing! Bet you a Galleon they kill one another before a day's up…just kidding, just kidding."  
  
"You're probably right though." Said Harry glumly.  
  
"Then again, might be fun, watching them fight it out."  
  
"If something doesn't eat us all first. That's an idea though…feed Snape and Malfoy to Aragog."  
  
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalised. "Surely you wouldn't try to sabotage the task?"  
  
  
  
"Of course I'll be trying to sabotage it." Malfoy drawled, dropping into a dark green armchair in the Slytherin common room. "What's the point otherwise?"  
  
"But you could get into awful trouble!" Cried Pansy Parkinson, who had been listening, rapt, as Draco explained the situation.  
  
"No, I'll be getting Potter and that old cat McGonagall into trouble. Dumbledore won't be there, will he? And the professor will back me up. He always does." Pansy giggled.  
  
"I bet it'll be fun." She said. "Especially if professor Snape gets the better of McGonagall."  
  
"He always does." Smirked Malfoy. He'd never forgiven McGonagall for punishing him for being out of bed during the night in his first year. Malfoy, a typical Slytherin, was definitely one to bear grudges for a long, long time.  
  
  
  
"Do we have everything?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Flasks?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Food?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tents?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"First Aid kit?"  
  
"Yes! Yes! We have everything!"  
  
"There's no need to be like that."  
  
"Yes but how many times do I have to tell you, woman, we have everything! Everything in the damned school judging by the weight of this blasted bag."  
  
"Spares?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do we have spares?"  
  
"Are you questioning my personal hygiene?"  
  
"Spare food! Spares flasks! Spare first aid?"  
  
"For the last time – yes." Snape and McGonagall stood together at the edge of the Forbidden forest. Snape was carrying a large rucksack, packed to bursting. McGonagall carried a handbag and compass.  
  
"I notice I have to carry all the supplies."  
  
"You're stronger than me, physically."  
  
"What are you implying? That my mental capacities are inferior?"  
  
"You were the one to say it."  
  
"Hmph!"  
  
"All set then, Professors?" Rubeus Hagrid, the school's enormous gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was heading towards them, beaming. "I envy yeh…getting' t' spend a week in the Forest n'all. It'll be interestin'…"  
  
"*If * we return, Hagrid, we'll be sure to tell you all about the hideous monsters that tried to digest us alive as we wandered helplessly around without our wands."  
  
"Ta, professor Snape. I'd be much obliged." Said Hagrid pleasantly, completely missing the sarcasm. Snape sighed.  
  
"Where are they, then?" He looked around in exasperation. "I suppose Potter's giving a press conference about his upcoming triumph or something…"  
  
"I notice Malfoy isn't here yet either." Retorted McGonagall. "Perhaps he's busy practising the curses he'll be throwing at Harry while his back is turned." Hagrid looked bemusedly from one to the other, but before he could ask, the missing members of the party arrived, accompanied by Hermione, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"Finally." Growled Snape. "Come on, we're late as it is."  
  
"Yes, come along." McGonagall was determined not to be outdone. "Do you have your rucksacks? Yes, I see you do. Have you packed everything?"  
  
"For Merlin's sake don't start all that again! We should have left twenty minutes ago." Harry turned to Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Well, this is it, then. See you in a week." He glanced nervously ahead into the forest.  
  
"G' luck, Harry." Hagrid said. "Now, professors, just in case yeh get inter any trouble in that forest withou' yer wands…"  
  
"What?" Malfoy shot an alarmed glance at Snape. "You don't have wands either?"  
  
"Dumbledore's rules." The professor shrugged.  
  
"They can't do this!" Cried Malfoy. "I'll tell my father…I…" Crabbe and Goyle closed in protectively on either side of him, looking menacing. Hermione frowned.  
  
"Dumbledore won't let any of you come to any harm."  
  
"How would he know, though?" Ron wondered.  
  
"Thanks Ron." Said Harry grimly.  
  
"I'm sure the headmaster has taken every precaution." Snapped McGonagall. "Now, we should be getting along…"  
  
"Bye then, Harry." Ron stuck out his hand, glaring at Malfoy as he did so. "Watch your back…"  
  
"I will." Said Harry, looking unhappily from Malfoy to Snape; they were wearing almost identical sulky expressions. Hermione hugged Harry briefly, seemingly on the verge of tears, then she and Ron stood back with Hagrid. Crabbe and Goyle hovered uncertainly near Malfoy.  
  
"Well, get lost then." He said irritably. "I'm not hugging you." They shrugged and headed back towards the school.  
  
"Don' forget." Hagrid said. "If yeh get inter trouble, see if yeh c'n find an owl who'll get a message ter me, n' I'll come n' get yer."  
  
"I am overwhelmed with confidence." Snape murmured.  
  
"Well, tha's jus' fine. Be seein' yeh soon, then!"  
  
"Ye gods, I hope so." Muttered McGonagall as they set off into the forest.  
  
  
  
Sorry, yet another cliffhanger ( And a rather short chapter! But the next chapter follows very soon.  
  
By the way, how was Hagrid's vernacular in this bit? Did I get it right? I'm from Wolverhampton so his accent makes absolutely no sense to me ;-) Toodles! 


	4. A plague on both your houses

A/N Hi again all, and thanks so much to all you lovely people who reviewed ( for all your sweet comments! You've made me a very happy psychologist (  
  
BTW I'm also happy because the second HP movie is being filmed at my college over the next few weeks! Remember the stone stairs leading to the Great Hall, with the lamps and everything? That's my college, Christ Church. We couldn't get into our dining room properly for three weeks…but we weren't complaining! Well actually we did but it was worth it in the end (  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the peeps/locations in the story. Sadly.  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
"What now, then?" Malfoy threw down his rucksack in disgust, surveying the twisted mass of dark vegetation surrounding the little group. A haunting breeze rustled through the tall trees, and somewhere deep in the forest, a soft groaning could be heard, like that of a gigantic creature in pain. Every now and again, the forest trembled slightly, as though in the grip of a minor earthquake, and animal cries could be heard from the depths. Shivering, Malfoy sat down heavily on his bag of supplies.  
  
"What a foul place this is! What's Dumbledore thinking?"  
  
"No one made you come, Malfoy."  
  
"Yes, well, I thought you might need my help, Potter." Drawled the blonde boy, "just in case any nasty dementors turn up, or anything…"  
  
"The dementor line is so old. What's up, can't you think of anything new to taunt me with? Or are you too busy wetting your knickers over being in the forest?" Malfoy snorted.  
  
"Professor!" He shouted. "Potter's being rude to me. Tell him, sir, this is supposed to be a co-operative task."  
  
"Stop insulting Malfoy, Potter." Harry glared at Snape's back, which was slowly disappearing into the forest's darkness.  
  
"And come on." The potions master growled. "We should reach the heart of the forest by dawn tomorrow."  
  
"But I'm tired, sir."  
  
"Malfoy," McGonagall cut in, irritably, "we have been walking for approximately twenty minutes."  
  
"My rucksack is heavy."  
  
"You shouldn't have brought so much stuff then, should you?" Muttered Harry.  
  
"What about you, Potter? How will you sleep without your teddy Weasel?"  
  
"That's enough, Malfoy! As you said, this is supposed to be a team effort. Now get a move on, both of you, before I take points from both houses."  
  
"But…" Malfoy began, but a glare from McGonagall silenced him. With a sigh of resignation he picked up the rucksack and slowly followed the teachers, dragging his feet sulkily. Harry picked up his own bag and quickly outpaced him. Malfoy, who was not at all happy about being in the forest, despite his bravado, hurried to keep up.  
  
The 'team' trudged largely in silence for the best part of three hours; at one o' clock precisely they stopped for a brief lunch; at two o'clock they continued into the forest; by five o'clock it was nearly pitch black, and the group lit the Muggle torches they had bought with them. Snape, obviously most unused to such devices, kept waving his absent-mindedly and muttering 'Lumos!' until McGonagall took it away from him and switched it on. By seven o'clock, Draco was too tired to insult Harry and McGonagall and Snape weren't speaking to each other over a disagreement over whether to head north or west from the Giant Oak Tree; by ten o'clock, the group was completely, utterly, hopelessly lost.  
  
"Twelve hours." McGonagall groaned, as she perched delicately on a fallen log, resting her tired and aching feet. "Twelve hours, Snape! What is Albus going to say when he finds out we couldn't manage more than half a day in this wretched forest?"  
  
"Well, if we had gone west at the Tree instead of north like you insisted…"  
  
"North was correct! It was you who wanted to find a bridge across the stream rather than wading through it…"  
  
"There were pirhanas in there!"  
  
"They were not pirhanas! The most dangerous thing in there was an old trout!"  
  
"Takes one to know one, eh?"  
  
"Well, really!" Harry and Draco exchanged weary glances. This particular argument between the teachers had been ongoing for the past hour and a half; every time either of the students attempted to break in, or suggest a compromise, they were met with angry looks and told to be quiet in the presence of their elders.  
  
"I believe we should have gone west." Whispered Malfoy to Harry.  
  
"Yeah? What makes you think Snape was right? He's got the sense of direction of a flobberworm!"  
  
"Maybe so," hissed Draco, "but at least if we'd have gone west we could have escaped those two! My father would be appalled. Hogwarts teachers behaving like children!" To his surprise Harry found that he thoroughly agreed.  
  
"There's no way we'll ever get out of this forest if they have to co- operate with one another. Look at them!" Snape was now pacing vigorously back and forth, wearing a small groove in a pile of leaves. McGonagall remained on her log, scowling into the darkness.  
  
"Professors?" Harry said hesitantly.  
  
"What is it, Potter?"  
  
"Perhaps…since we haven't decided which way to go yet…" he continued, diplomatically, "we should camp here for the night, and sort everything out in the morning."  
  
"Potter's right." Chimed in Malfoy unexpectedly, and Harry glanced at him with surprise. "We should have a meal and bed down for the night. It's pointless wandering about in the dark and anyway, I'm tired." McGonagall sighed, gazed from one to the other.  
  
"What do you think?" She asked Snape, who was peering vaguely into the distance, as though attempting to divine their route by starlight. Not that any starlight filtered down to them through the vast twisted tops of the trees.  
  
"Hm? Yes, I suppose so." He wandered back to the group and sat down glumly.  
  
"Well then." Harry tried to lighten the unhappy atmosphere. "Shall we open a tin of something, then? And maybe get some wood for a fire."  
  
"Fire? I hardly think that a fire would be appropriate. It might attract…things."  
  
"Things, Severus?"  
  
"Wild…things."  
  
"Oh, don't be ridiculous." Snapped McGonagall. "We can't sit here and freeze to death. Potter, you and Malfoy try to find some firewood while professor Snape and I prepare a meal. Don't wander too far; stay within hearing range." As Harry and Draco headed off, they could hear the professors arguing about what to have for dinner. As soon as they were out of hearing range, Malfoy pulled Harry to one side.  
  
"Potter, this is insane. We're done for."  
  
"I won't disagree with you." Harry replied grimly. "Unless those two silly gits sort themselves out, we've got no chance."  
  
"So what are we going to do about it?"  
  
"I don't see what we can do." Sighed Harry. "They aren't likely to listen to anything we say." Malfoy looked thoughtful.  
  
"I'd suspect," he drawled, after a moment, "that Dumbledore has somehow rigged this task so that the only way to accomplish it successfully is by teamwork." A significant pause. "How badly do you want to get out of here, Potter?"  
  
"Knowing the things that live in this forest, pretty badly."  
  
"So do I. That's it, then. There's no other choice. As little as I like it, and as ironic as it may be…" resignedly, he stuck out his hand. "Truce?" After a moment's thought, Harry shook it.  
  
"Truce."  
  
Heading back to the campsite a short while later, laden with dead wood for the fire, the students could still hear raised voices. The latest row appeared to be about Harry himself.  
  
"You've always disliked that boy!" McGonagall was saying, heatedly. "With absolutely no good reason!"  
  
"No reason? I could name a dozen reasons! Potter is a menace. His friends have attacked me and set fire to me. He has broken every school rule in the book…"  
  
"Well, it surprises me to find you condemning a classically Slytherin trait!"  
  
"We Slytherins at least do it with style." Snape drawled. "Besides which, Potter causes endless trouble among the other pupils, swanning about with his fanclub in tow…"  
  
"He has not asked for fame."  
  
"Of course not. And why should he have it? Just because, by a bizarre quirk of fate, he happened to bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord…for a while…"  
  
"You only dislike Potter because of petty jealousy. Just because the boy is well-loved, whereas you yourself were lucky to be pitied by your mother!"  
  
"I'll have you know I was a happy and well-adjusted child…"  
  
"I find that very hard to believe!"  
  
"And I imagine your mother found it hard to believe when her daughter joined the KiteKat club!"  
  
"Ha! Well, at least my mother wasn't slapped by the midwife immediately after my birth!"  
  
"How dare you! I was a charming child."  
  
"And so I presume was Caligula!"  
  
"Er…professors?" Harry dropped the pile of firewood he had been holding. Snape and McGonagall turned to glare at him with almost identically sour expressions.  
  
"What is it?" She demanded.  
  
"We…Draco and I…were wondering about dinner."  
  
"I see. You have professor Snape to thank for the delay. He seems to take exception to sausages."  
  
"While McGonagall seems to find most of our rations beneath her. Don't worry, professor, I'm sure we have a tin of Meow Mix in here somewhere…"  
  
"For one thing, Snape, I have had quite enough of your tedious jokes about my being an Animagus, and for another, I would rather avoid altogether anything that you had prepared for fear I might not survive it!"  
  
"You accuse me of poisoning you?" Snape hissed, his eyes glittering.  
  
"It would not surprise me in the least!"  
  
"I would have my work cut out for me," the potions master replied, "since it would take nine successful attempts in total…one for each of your lives!" McGonagall rolled her eyes, and even Malfoy groaned. Harry, tired, hungry and exasperated, finally broke out,  
  
"Will you two just stop it! You're acting like little kids!" The professors rounded on him so quickly he felt as though he'd been hit by a bludger.  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter!" They snarled in startling unison, then exchanged surprised glares. Harry, slightly alarmed, stepped back a pace.  
  
"Is…is that ten points, or twenty?" He asked, confused.  
  
"Ten." Said McGonagall.  
  
"Twenty." Corrected Snape. She glowered at him.  
  
"Ten." Snape harrumphed and sat down, sulking.  
  
"They've gone mad…" whispered Draco, wonderingly. "What are we going to do?" Harry shook his head, eyeing the teachers unhappily. He had never seen McGonagall quite so furious, and Snape was looking ready to kill the first thing that crossed his path, whether monstrous beast, pupil, or colleague.  
  
Eventually dinner was made; it was midnight, however, before the group finally settled down to sleep, having managed to put up their tents with little difficulty; Dumbledore had provided magical self-constructing ones, small but functional. Harry, initially distressed to find he was required to share with Draco, was beginning to realise the benefits of safety in numbers. The wind had begun to howl, and shortly after the team settled down for the night, rain tapped at the tents' canvas surfaces, making restful sleep impossible.  
  
"I can't take much more of this." Malfoy groaned, after an hour of the exasperating noise. "What time is it?"  
  
"Almost half one."  
  
"Urgh…"  
  
"It's getting worse, as well." Harry remarked, pulling back the tent flap for a moment to peer out at the rampaging night. "A real storm's brewing. Just our luck!" Malfoy opened his mouth to say something else – doubtless that he'd complain to his father about the weather – when an abnormally powerful gust of wind ripped right through the tent, whipping it off the astonished pair and throwing it high into the trees as they lay, suddenly colder and wetter, mouths agape with amazement.  
  
"What the bloody hell?" Cried Harry, as the storm howled around them. It had gone from simply annoying to utterly terrifying in the space of thirty seconds. Trees shuddered and leaned dangerously as the wind dragged them back and forth; looking over to Snape and McGonagall's tents, it was apparent that they too were in danger of blowing away, and equally apparent that the teachers were intent on not allowing this to happen: Snape was hanging on to his for dear life, while McGonagall lay full-length on top of hers. It was so surreal, Harry thought. Of all the strange and wonderful things he had seen at Hogwarts, watching two of his senior teachers clinging desperately to flyaway tents in their nightwear came close to being the weirdest.  
  
"Are you all right, professors?" He roared across the wind.  
  
"Get…back….toyour…tent Potter!" Gasped Snape (he was on the verge of being lifted off his feet). For answer, Harry simply pointed at the enormous tree on which the tend was impaled.  
  
"What am I supposed to do, make a treehouse?"  
  
"That'llbe…tenpointsoff…foryour…insolence!" Snape managed.  
  
"Oh, stop harassing the boy and help me with this tent!" Wailed McGonagall.  
  
"I have my hands full, in case you hadn't noticed, woman…" Harry and Draco exchanged helpless looks. They were soaked completely now.  
  
"This is madness." Malfoy muttered. Harry could only agree.  
  
The storm died down as quickly as it had begun, confirming Snape's suspicion that it had been no ordinary meteorological event but a magically created freak of nature. The thought made him very unhappy. Being wet, cold and tentless also made him unhappy. What upset him most of all, however, was hanging six feet from the ground, clinging to the ruined remains of his tent, which now hung from the lower branches of an oak tree. Below him a voice filtered through the darkness.  
  
"Snape! Snape! Where are you man?" Gripping the edge of the tent he shouted,  
  
"Here!"  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Here, you blind old bat!"  
  
"I don't see you."  
  
"LOOK UP!" Finally McGonagall did, and her eyes widened – at least Snape assumed they did, he couldn't see a great deal of her in the gloom.  
  
"How'd you get up there?"  
  
"I won't dignify that with an answer. Just get me down!"  
  
"How?" McGonagall asked helplessly. "I can't reach you…."  
  
"You might try finding something to…aah!" The sentence was left hanging, unlike Snape, who plummeted to the ground as the tent's canvas ripped; luckily thick underbrush broke his fall for the most part. McGonagall gave a sudden scream  
  
"My God! Severus!"  
  
"It's all right…not serious…think I've broken my wrist."  
  
"Not that! The boys!"  
  
"Boys?" Snape scrambled unsteadily to his feet, holding the injured wrist against him. "What boys?"  
  
"Malfoy and Potter!"  
  
"What about them?" Snape growled irritably. He sat down on a log, nursing his arm.  
  
"They're gone." McGonagall's eyes were wide with horror. "WHERE ARE THEY?" Snape shook his head, annoyed.  
  
"They've just wandered off somewhere. Stop shrieking in my ear, woman, I'm hurt!"  
  
"Oh, never mind your silly wrist! They could be lying dead somewhere – we have to find them." Snape looked up at the quivering tone of her voice. The events of the last few days had been too much for her, it seemed – she was trembling with shock and anxiety, her lower lip savagely clamped between her teeth. To his alarm, she sank down onto the same log on which he was sitting, and buried her face despairingly in her hands. Snape stared at her in amazement, then looked away, embarrassed. After a moment her murmured  
  
"Don't…don't cry." A sniff emerged from the hands; then she sat up, wiping her eyes quickly.  
  
"You're right." She replied stiffly. "Histrionics won't find them. We need a plan of action."  
  
"Very well." Said Snape, relieved. "We might start by finding our supplies…I assume they've been scattered to the four winds." McGonagall nodded and began to search among the mess of underbrush and fallen branches which covered most of their campsite. Snape, watching her, felt a twinge of unwilling respect – although in his youth he had generally equated courage with stupidity, teaching at Hogwarts, and his own hard experiences, had taught him to recognise and appreciate genuine bravery when he saw it. He recalled vaguely a line he had heard somewhere many years ago…something to the effect that to be courageous is not to be unafraid, but to carry on despite that fear. A part of him too respected McGonagall's compassion for the missing pupils and her concern over their welfare…indeed, at some level he even shared that concern, although for him the more serious issue was who would do him the most damage: Dumbledore when he discovered Snape had managed to lose a couple of pupils, or Lucius Malfoy when he found out that Snape had mislaid his only son. For privately Snape did not expect to see the boys again; if, as he speculated, they had wandered off on their own, believing arrogantly that they could succeed better without the leadership of their elders, they had very little chance of survival in the sinister and deadly forest.  
  
  
  
A/N well! I don't usually like to end chapters so abruptly but this was showing signs of going on too long, and I wanted to post it! What has happened to Harry and Draco, and will the professors be forced to co- operate after all? Please review! 


	5. Teamwork

A/N Welcome to Chapter 5! Thanks as always to my lovely dear reviewers, without whom this fic would have been consigned to the fires of Mount Doom! Sorry it's taken so long to update - this is the last chapter. For upcoming Snape/McGonagall fics, see my A/N at the end! Thanks once again for accompanying me on this ride :-)  
  
  
  
Snape was fed up. After collecting what they could find of the supplies – which wasn't much – he and McGonagall, at her insistence of course, had spend a number of hours wandering about, poking into every nook and cranny of the forest that they could find, calling for Potter and Malfoy. Needless to say there had been no answer. Snape was all for giving up two hours ago but the deputy headmistress was adamant.  
  
"We will not leave this forest until we find those boys!"  
  
"And what if we don't find them? Do we take to the wild and become savages? We can't live here, McGonagall, we have to return to the school and report this unfortunate…accident." She sighed in frustration.  
  
"Only when we are absolutely certain that Harry and Draco are not to be found."  
  
"What about when our week is up? Dumbledore will wonder where we are. We can't search every inch of the forest by ourselves. We should go back and fetch help." Let someone else do the bloody searching he thought bitterly. This was the most dignified and restrained argument the two had had for a long time, but it continued through the day and well into their second night in the forest. Eventually Snape threw himself down on a patch of grass, slumped against a tree, and refused to go any further.  
  
"What are you doing?" McGonagall demanded. Snape peered up at her through his greasy hair.  
  
"I am sitting here. I am staying here. You carry on if you want to."  
  
"But the boys…"  
  
"It's pitch black, freezing cold, we have very little in the way of food or water, no torches, no tents or blankets. This area seems safe and hidden. There is plenty of cover from the trees above. It would be more comfortable to spend the night here than going further into the forest. And besides which…" Snape paused significantly as a vague rustling could be heard from somewhere beyond the trees, following by a growling noise, "there are…things."  
  
"Things again!" McGonagall muttered, throwing herself down beside Snape in irritation. "What are these things you keep going on about?"  
  
"I don't keep going on about them. But you realise that there are monsters in this forest, many of them unknown and few of them friendly. And most particularly…"  
  
"What, for heavens sake?"  
  
"…"  
  
"What? I didn't hear you."  
  
"WEREWOLVES!" Roared Snape. "Werewolves, all right? There are werewolves in this forest and I do not wish to come across one of them." McGonagall groaned.  
  
"Not werewolves again! You and your werewolf problem."  
  
"It is not a problem. I simply dislike them, which I think is quite a reasonable approach. Nasty, hairy, fangy…things." McGonagall sighed.  
  
"Very well…very well. We'll stop here for the night."  
  
"And look for a way out of the forest in the morning," he held up a hand as she began to protest. "It's the best thing for the boys, you must know that. A proper search party would be far more efficient. The two of us stumbling through underbrush and getting lost is hardly likely to help them. You surely see the logic of my arguments? It's only your compassion for Potter and Malfoy that makes you stay here." He had spoken the word 'compassion' with a decided sneer, feeling he was insulting her, but McGonagall was staring at him oddly. After a moment she dropped her gaze and murmured,  
  
"Thank you." Snape frowned, shrugged, decided it to pass it off. He settled back against the tree, preparing for a long, grim, cold night, filled only with the prospect of werewolves…and then, a rare happy thought struck him.  
  
"Do we still have the spare flasks?" McGonagall glanced up.  
  
"Some of them." To her bemusement Snape leapt to his feet and began to rummage energetically through the rucksack. He withdrew the remaining flasks - five in all - and removing the tops, sniffed at each. When he came to the third flask, he gasped and sneezed before holding it up triumphantly to McGonagall.  
  
"What on earth is that?" She could smell it from several feet away.  
  
"Whisky." Replied Snape, simply. "Emergency supply…there are advantages to being eternally pessimistic." He sank back against the tree's supporting trunk once more, closed his eyes, took a gulp of the potent stuff, grimaced, shuddered slightly, sighed, opened his eyes, and passed the flask to McGonagall. She eyed it with a mixture of suspicion and disapproval.  
  
"It'll keep you warm at least." Murmured Snape, who had closed his eyes once more, and was looking unusually relaxed. The liquid was blatantly rather more than ordinary whisky. McGonagall had always wandered exactly what Snape brewed in the dungeons late at night during the holidays. But it was this or freeze…with a sigh of resignation she accepted a small mouthful of Snape suspect homebrew. And almost choked. Gasping and clutching her chest she struggled desperately for air. The stuff *burned*…it was like drinking paraffin…after a few moments, however, the sensation of spontaneously combusting was replaced with a strange numbness, a delicious tingling…followed immediately by a deepening languor. McGonagall gazed wonderingly at the little silver flask. Perhaps she had underestimated the usefulness of potions in everyday life…and, indeed, of potions masters.  
  
Snape meanwhile had been watching her reaction to the 'whisky' with unveiled amusement, through half-closed eyes. He smirked and took a second gulp himself.  
  
"Never would've thought it." He murmured. McGonagall peered up at him hazily. She couldn't believe how fast the substance was acting. Snape was even slurring a little. "Scot like yourself," he continued, with a sloppy version of his usual sneer, "unable to hold her liqueur…" That made McGonagall sit up indignantly. She grabbed the flask.  
  
"Can't take my liqueur? Why this *concoction* of yours is probably not even legal. But just to prove you wrong… not that I'm interested in your childish criticisms…" She threw back her head and took a long swallow of the brew. And was unable to speak for several minutes.  
  
In the space of half an hour, they emptied the flask between them; to McGonagall the night began to seem less cold, the forest less dark, and Snape's company less odious, than it had thirty minutes before. It was as though a warm circle of safety and light surrounded them. Peering past the boundary of the circle into the blackness of the wood, McGonagall thought suddenly of Harry and Draco…and with that thought came an unbearable surge of guilt. Those boys could be freezing somewhere, perhaps dying, while their teachers, who were sworn to protect them, sat around uselessly getting drunk…  
  
"What on earth's the matter with you?" Snape asked. McGonagall had covered her face with her hands, overcome with guilt and grief. Snape reached out and, with surprising gentleness, pulled them away. Slowly she lifted her eyes to his. Tears were sliding down her cheeks.  
  
"Oh, now." He murmured, shifting a little closer to her. "Don't cry." Drowsily he folded her hand between his. "Don't cry…" his eyes closed as he drifted into sleep. McGonagall gazed wonderingly at the pale, sallow face, wondering if she would ever understand the man. Eventually, with a sigh, she laid her head upon Snape's thin shoulder, and followed him into sleep.  
  
Before morning, however, the professors were treated to a most unexpected and unwelcome alarm call. McGonagall was woken by a curious rustling, which at first had invaded her dreams…Dumbledore holding a paper bag of those vile sweets he liked, rattling it under her nose…as she neared wakefulness a soft moaning complemented the sound…no, not moaning, more a sort of distant howling…opening her eyes, she barely had time to register embarrassment at having fallen asleep leaning against Snape when she saw that he was already fully awake, his black eyes wide with alarm.  
  
"What is…?"  
  
"Shh." He hissed. "It's coming closer."  
  
"But what…" he did not need to answer. The bloodcurdling howl, now within a hundred yards of them at most, would have been recognisable even to a Muggle.  
  
"My God." She whispered. "A werewolf…" Snape gave a small groan. And looking up into his face, McGonagall realised abruptly that he was quite terrified.  
  
"Come on." She hissed. "We should move…perhaps we can sneak away before it scents us…" she got to her feet, grabbing the rucksack. The creature was not yet visible through the trees - they had a chance. "Come on!" She repeated. Snape slithered slowly to his feet, supporting himself against the tree trunk. His face was several shades paler than usual, and appeared slightly green, to McGonagall's alarm.  
  
The howl came again, closer now, and filled with a fearsome animal triumph. It had scented them! McGonagall turned, rapidly deciding to make for a small copse they had noticed earlier…it would perhaps offer some protection…she had gone a dozen paces before realising Snape wasn't following her. She glanced back. He was still leaning against the tree, his eyes tightly shut, trembling. He had frozen.  
  
"Severus!" She roared. "Move! For the love of God, man!" Too late. Out of the trees, it's eyes rolling wildly and enormous jaws snapping, came the werewolf. Seeing its prey paralysed with fear the beast made immediately for Snape, and paused before him, growling deep in its throat, tail lashing. Snape opened one eye briefly, made a small whimpering sound, and pressed back against the tree. The slavering wolf paused, seeming to cruelly savour the moment. McGonagall, horrified, did the only thing she could think of to rescue her petrified colleague.  
  
"Hoi! You! Ugly brute!" Snape opened his eyes and glanced towards her in a brief moment of angry lucidity - but she was looking at the werewolf.  
  
"Over here!" McGonagall cried. The wolf lashed its tail, growled, and turned its attention back to Snape - it could smell fear, and liked it, McGonagall thought frantically. She had to attract its interest somehow…what would a werewolf find more interesting than a terrified potions master? Only one avenue seemed to suggest itself…but surely it wouldn't work, it was absurd…and yet there was no choice. With a last cry of,  
  
"Brute! Over here!" She transfigured.  
  
The werewolf was plainly puzzled by the sudden disappearance of the woman and materialisation of a hissing feline. The cat arched her back, spat, and lunged, lashing out to claw at the wolf's tail. The apparently suicidal ploy worked - the werewolf was angered, and turned on the cat. Snape, still slumped against the tree in a state of shock, watched in bewilderment as the cat shot off in the direction of the copse, with the wolf in hot pursuit.  
  
It took Snape's dazed brain a few moments to work out exactly what was happening. McGonagall had drawn the werewolf away from him…she had saved his life! That thought spurred Snape into action; he bolted after the wolf with one thought in mind - I *refuse* to be indebted to that woman for the rest of my teaching career!  
  
When Snape reached the copse, a disturbing sight met his eyes…the wolf, reared up on its hind legs beneath the bough of an ancient, gnarled tree overhanging a small muddy pool, with McGonagall nowhere in sight. Alarmed, he called her name repeatedly…a fearful mew finally answered him. He looked up. The cat was perched on the edge of the bough, trembling as the wolf, furious, slammed its enormous body against the tree's trunk, causing the branch to quiver violently. The cat swayed, trying to keep its balance, as Snape looked on in horror. The wolf flung itself once more against the tree; this time, McGonagall did slip; the cat was now hanging precariously over the pool by its front legs, mewing pitifully. The sound spurred Snape finally into action; without thinking he thrust a hand into the thick underbrush, searching for a stout stick, or indeed anything to throw at the damned creature before it ate his colleague whole.  
  
What his groping hand actually found might almost have been placed there by magic. Grabbing something wood-coloured and stick-length, Snape dragged it out of the undergrowth, only to come nose-to-forked-tongue with a three feet long poisonous snake that looked quite as astonished as the professor. With a yelp of surprise Snape flung the creature away from him as its fangs clacked together; the writhing serpent flew through the air with the greatest of ease, landing in the grass at the feet - or rather paws - of the werewolf. Infuriated and deprived of Snape's nose, which it had been intending to bite, the snake sank its teeth into the first available victim…the wolf howled as inch long fangs slid into its hairy leg…flinging itself into the air the wolf crashed against the aged tree, dislodging the snake, which landed unhurt upon the grass and lay hissing to itself in consternation. To Snape's amazement and relief, the injured werewolf fled howling into the depths of the forest, disappearing without trace into blackness. Snape heaved a tremulous sigh.  
  
"McGonagall? It's all right, it's gone, you can come down now. McGonagall? McGonagall? MINERVA!" The cat was gone. And the surface of the pool broken. Ripples spread from the centre to the muddy edge, to which Snape stumbled, peering into the water.  
  
"Minerva?" Can cats swim? Can McGonagall? When nothing emerged, Snape, with a groan of resignation, threw off the cloak he had been wearing against the cold, took off his boots and - taking a deep breath - plunged into the murky water.  
  
It was impossible to see anything under there, but fortunately the pool was small, more of a pond, and to Snape's relief, his searching hands quickly contacted a drifting heap of sodden fur. Grasping it he swam rapidly to the surface, breaking out of the water and dragging in a lungfull of air before scrambling onto the grass and placing the limp bundle before him. The cat was very still. For a horrible moment Snape though she was dead…then he remembered that had that been the case Minerva would have returned to human form. Gently he prodded her. The cat made a hacking sound, and quivered.  
  
"Furball?" Muttered Snape, hiding his emotion with sarcasm with the ease of long practice. Carefully he scooped up the shivering, soaked animagus and carried her into the copse, picking up his discarded cloak and wrapping it around both of them as he sank wearily against the same tree upon a branch of which McGonagall had perched so dangerously. She was alive, but clearly too shaken and weak to transfigure. There didn't seem to be anything Snape could do for her apart from keeping her warm. And so he did, and as the last hours of the night wore away, he fell into exhausted sleep with the cat cradled against his chest.  
  
A certain sense of smug self-congratulation at defeating his monstrous nemesis did not detract from the embarrassment Snape felt, upon waking late the next morning, to find a fully human Minerva McGonagall snuggled against his chest, fast asleep. Glad she couldn't see him blushing, Snape patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. She stirred slightly, only to slip her arms more closely around him.  
  
"McGonagall…" he muttered, appalled. Slowly her eyes opened.  
  
"Severus, what…oh." Also blushing, McGonagall disengaged herself quickly from his person. He felt a little colder when she had done so.  
  
"What time is it?" She murmured, rising a little unsteadily to her feet. Snape, following suit, stretched himself, feeling his spine crackle. He checked his watch.  
  
"Almost eleven o'clock. Good God!"  
  
"The boys." Said McGonagall, fully alert now. "We still haven't found the boys…" as though by some unspoken agreement they both avoided mention of the events of the previous night. Snape was about to reply acidly that the boys could go and stuff themselves since it was their own fault for wandering off…when a horridly familiar rustling and snuffling came to the ears of the two professors. Snape, who had had more than enough of werewolves to last several lifetimes, immediately leapt behind a bush.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Severus, werewolves don't hunt in the daytime…it's just a large dog…it's Fang!" McGonagall could hardly believe her eyes. Hagrid's enormous boarhound had emerged from the trees, wagging his tail and drooling happily.  
  
"Fang?" Snape exclaimed, peeing out from behind the protection of his chosen bush. "How did Fang get here?" Reassured by the sight of Hagrid's pet, Snape quitted his camouflage. Fang trotted over to lick him wetly.  
  
"Urgh…where's Hagrid, then? Where is he, boy?" Fang slobbered uncomprehendingly over Snape's hand. The question was answered, however, when the man himself emerged from the trees, beaming.  
  
"There ye are, professors! We were gettin' a mite worried about yeh. How's it bin then, eh?" Snape was so relieved to see Hagrid that he didn't even consider making an acid reply to this obviously stupid question.  
  
"Hagrid," McGonagall quavered, "Potter and Malfoy…we can't find them…they wandered off alone." To her amazement and chagrin, Hagrid chuckled. She glowered at him,  
  
"This is no laughing matter, man! They could be hurt…they could be…"  
  
"Up at the castle."  
  
"I beg your pardon!?"  
  
"Dumbledore had me take 'em back up there as soon as it looked like there migh' be a bit o' danger."  
  
"You mean…" McGonagall was flabbergasted, "you mean all this time…we've been wandering through the forest…meeting werewolves and goodness knows what, and they've been safe back in their beds?" Hagrid nodded, still grinning.  
  
"Thank God." Gasped Minerva. Snape, meanwhile, seemed dazed. Abruptly he snapped out of it and turned on Hagrid.  
  
"And all this time we've been risking our lives to find those stupid children? Dumbledore never intended for them to be involved in this blasted task of his at all, did he? It was all a ploy on his part…the cunning…" He trailed off as McGonagall glared at him. "But just what was the bloody *point*?" Hagrid offered a conciliatory smile.  
  
"Yeh'll have to take it up wi' professor Dumbledore. I'm just here teh escort yeh back to the castle."  
  
"How…how far?" Snape asked faintly. Suddenly he felt desperately tired.  
  
"Oh…abou' ten minutes' walk, give or tek." Snape's response to this took up the whole journey.  
  
"I think you owe us both an explanation, Albus." McGonagall and Snape, still muddy and battered from their 'task', stood side by side in Dumbledore's office, wearing almost identical expressions of controlled fury. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, hands folded, eyes twinkling, smiling affectionately upon both of them.  
  
"Please sit down." He suggested pleasantly. As they complied, he added, "you might be pleased to know that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter are safe in their dormitories."  
  
"So we've heard." Muttered Snape. Dumbledore beamed.  
  
"Then you agree that the task has been a success?"  
  
"Task? What task? From what I can see you've merely subjected the pair of us to several night's worth of torment just to prove a point. And I don't see how it's been in any way successful. We lost Potter and Malfoy within a day and almost ended up being killed by a bloody great…thing."  
  
"Werewolf." Supplied McGonagall. Snape shuddered.  
  
"Dear me!" The headmaster exclaimed. "You surely don't think, Severus, Minerva, that I would risk the lives of either yourselves or your students? The task, unpleasant as it may have seemed, was very carefully orchestrated from the beginning."  
  
"It was faked?" McGonagall could hardly believe it. "The whole thing? Getting lost? The werewolf attack?"  
  
"It wasn't Lupin, was it?" Snape muttered blackly.  
  
"I would not ask Remus to do anything of the sort. The werewolf was, in fact, created with the assistance of glamourie."  
  
"It wasn't…" Snape narrowed his eyes. "It was, wasn't it? That blasted dog of Hagrid's!"  
  
"Fang is very gentle," twinkled Dumbledore, "but quite fearsome in appearance."  
  
"Ha!"  
  
"Just what, if you don't mind me asking," McGonagall put in tightly, "was the purpose of all this…rigmarole?"  
  
"A lesson, my dear Minerva! A lesson in teamwork, just as I promised." Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair and steepled his fingers. Oh God, he's going to preach at us again Snape thought.  
  
"You see, the best way of drawing people together and resolving differences is by creating a common enemy and a common goal. The 'werewolf' you fought together represented the enemy. As for the goal…that is where Harry and Draco came in."  
  
"And the getting lost?"  
  
"Was nothing to do with me, I'm afraid." Said the headmaster with a smile. "Perhaps I should consider sending you both on an advanced course in orienteering." The professors looked horrified. Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"Then again, perhaps not. Now, I would suggest that both of you take a bath, eat a hot meal, and go to bed. And I will be awarding one hundred points to both your houses. Now then…" ignoring further argument, Dumbledore gently shooed Snape and McGonagall from the room. Standing in the corridor outside, they exchanged astonished glances.  
  
"He thinks he can win us over that easily." Grumbled Snape.  
  
"Actually," replied McGonagall crisply, "I think the headmaster has handled the situation most impressively."  
  
"What!?"  
  
"If you ask me, we quite deserved all we got. The task was a useful learning experience."  
  
"Turncoat!" Gasped Snape. "How can you say such things? Then again I suppose it's in the nature of a Gryffindor to be an utter creep in the face of authority."  
  
"Ha! This from a Slytherin? The slimiest, greasiest collection of snakes in the history of Hogwarts? And just how did you manage to slither into Dumbledore's good books without…creeping, as you so crudely put it?"  
  
"My history with Dumbledore is none of your business!"  
  
"Did it involve histrionics and drama lessons?"  
  
"How dare you accuse me of latent psychopathy!"  
  
"I could accuse you of much worse! And I'd be right!"  
  
"I'm beginning to wish I'd left you drowning in that lake, McGonagall!"  
  
"Well, *I'm* beginning to wish I'd left *you* to be slobbered to death by Fang!"  
  
"It would have been a preferable fate to spending the next fifty years sharing my working environment with you!"  
  
"There's always an alternative. I hear Azkaban's very clement this time of year!" She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth. Snape froze; his face shuttered; he began to walk swiftly away from her down the corridor. With an exasperated sigh she hurried after him.  
  
"Severus…wait a moment, please." Reluctantly he paused, faced her with his usual cold, closed up expression - but now, for the first time, she saw the pain beneath.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said quietly. "That last remark was entirely uncalled for."  
  
"It's not important." He replied brusquely. "I am well aware of your opinion of me."  
  
"Severus, even *I* don't know my opinion of you." She sighed again. "All I can honestly say is…you are a very complicated man." There was a pause. Then suddenly he favoured her with a rare, genuine smile - a rather weak smile, true, as though his facial muscles had forgotten how to do it, but a smile nonetheless.  
  
"Let at least that be said of me." She smiled back, tiredly but warmly.  
  
"Rest well, Severus."  
  
" And you." Snape remained standing in the corridor as she walked briskly off. A moment passed as he wrestled with himself. Finally he called after her.  
  
"Minerva?" She stopped, but did not turn.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"If you're interested…probably you wouldn't be, but nonetheless…I do have batch of that - special - whisky in my private stores. If you ever wanted to…discuss school matters, in a less stressful environment. " A pause. Then, softly,  
  
"Good morning, professor Snape." Another brief silence.  
  
"Good morning, professor McGonagall." He watched her retreating back as she headed back towards Gryffindor tower. He did not see her smile broaden.  
  
  
  
A/N Well that's it…hope you liked it. Please review and let me know! I have ideas for a couple more Snape/McGonagall stories in a similar vein…if people like the style. Currently I'm thinking about writing two more fics:  
  
Following their successful attempt at teamwork, Dumbledore sends our heroes on a dangerous mission to - gasp! - Muggle London, where they will pose as an ordinary, everyday Muggle husband and wife! How will McGonagall react to people thinking she's Snape's mother…and will Snape be able to buy all the potions ingredients he needs from Sainsbury's? Another action/adventure/humour fic.  
  
A more dramatic, angsty story - Dumbledore is missing, presumed dead, and McGonagall as acting headmistress is desperately struggling to hold the school together. What happens if she herself falls apart? Can Snape help her through a breakdown without falling prey to grief himself?  
  
Should I write these stories? Please let me know what you think… :-) Thanks for sticking with me, guys! 


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